


Dimiclaude Fictober 2019 Prompt Fills

by AceCavalier



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet Collection, Fictober 2019, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Prompt Fic, Psychological Trauma, Scars, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-11-22 08:37:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20871338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceCavalier/pseuds/AceCavalier
Summary: A series of short (500-1000 word) ficlets based on Fictober 2019 prompts, all featuring Dimiclaude. Other background characters/ships may appear and will be tagged.





	1. Leaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #1: Leaves

The forests around Garreg Mach monastery were a vast ocean of emerald waves, sprawling across the mountainous slopes; shades of green stretching endlessly outward from the monastery’s stone walls, uniform except for one single, golden tree. Nestled amongst the verdant storm around it, Claude had walked under its winding branches many times before, but only now, in the early weeks of Fall, had he really taken the time to notice it. 

It was shorter than the other trees, with a winding labyrinth of roots curled around its base and leaves shaped like stars. How had it managed to worm its way into a forest so unlike itself? Had a lone seed found its way here by accident, or been planted by someone? Had it been here long before the other trees, and was the last of its kind to survive? It certainly had a story to tell, judging by its weathered bark and crooked boughs. 

As Claude stood beneath that tree, looking up at the crown of gold that had emerged from the green, he decided it was his new favourite. 

A few days later, he returned to it, and wasn’t alone.

“Pretty special, huh?” He bent down to pick up one of the few leaves that had already begun to fall, and handed it to his companion. “It’ll be bare in a few weeks. A shame, too.”

Dimitri held the leaf gingerly by its stem, eyes tracing the thin veins that decorated it before looking up at the canopy.

“There are very few trees like this in Fhirdiad,” he said. “Most of them are evergreens. They’re considered a sign of strength - trees hardy enough to endure the long Faerghus winters, unyielding to the cold, just like its people. 

A hum from Claude. “I suppose that’s fitting. People in Faerghus value stoicism and chivalry, right? Standing tall and strong in a cold, grey place; I guess that does make evergreen trees pretty symbolic. But don’t you think that’s a little… severe?”

“Severe?” Dimitri gave him an odd look. “What do you mean?”

With the Fall sun shining down through the canopy, the gold leaves looked brighter than ever, more like polished jewels or shining embers. Claude stepped forward to place a hand against the tree’s bark; it was rough against his palm, but not unpleasant. 

“Deciduous trees like this one - they don’t _ die _ during winter. They’re as alive as every other tree, it’s just harder to see. I guess you could say they’re… sleeping. When Spring comes around, they wake up again and start to bloom. They might not be terribly pretty while they’re asleep, sure - and they might not look very tough - but during Fall and Spring I think they’re far more beautiful than any evergreen.”

When Claude turned to look back at him, Dimitri was watching him, a thoughtful look on his face.

“You seem to have put a lot of thought into this, Claude.”

Claude shrugged. “Honestly, it just occurred to me then.”

He sat himself down among the tree’s roots and patted the spot beside him. After a last look back over his shoulder - as if anyone would follow them into the monastery’s supposedly ‘dangerous’ forest - Dimitri sat down beside him, arms curled loosely around his knees, his back stiff. Something about him seemed so out of place here among the trees, but Claude struggled to pinpoint exactly what it was. Giving up, Claude shifted to lean his head against Dimitri’s shoulder.

“You’re a bit like an evergreen tree, you know.”

“Oh?” scoffed Dimitri. “And why’s that?”

“Well, you never drop your leaves.”

Dimitri’s shoulders trembled with a quiet laugh.

“I’m afraid I’ve no idea what you mean by that.”

“Ha, and here I thought it was obvious! Your leaves are kind of like your armour. Even when things around you get tough, you keep that armour on, never show any sign of weakness; you never drop your leaves.”

There was no response from Dimitri, so Claude continued.

“Evergreen trees always keep their armour on, so to speak, but doesn’t that get tiring, year after year? Deciduous trees get to shed that armour and sleep, but evergreen trees never do, not until they… they die. Maybe setting all that armour aside every now and again isn’t such a bad thing.”

Still nothing from Dimitri. Worried he’d said something insulting, Claude sat up, searching Dimitri’s face for any sign of anger or irritation, but there wasn’t any. There was only a distant sort of sadness, one Claude hadn’t seen before.

“Dimitri…?”

Blue eyes refocused, blinked. “Perhaps you’re right, Claude. I’m just… not quite sure I know how, after all these years.”

Claude leaned against him, their shoulders pressed together, and placed his hands over Dimitri’s.

“Well, if you want, maybe we can help each other.”

“I… would like that.”

Five summers later, Claude returned to the tree alone and found that it had failed to bloom, its branches bare and grey, its bark soft, its star-like leaves scattered across the ground, black and rotten.


	2. Blanket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #2: Blanket

It was  _ cold _ .

Claude had thought winters in the Leicester Alliance were bad enough, but at Garreg Mach they were worse still, and he was struggling. His uniform wasn’t nearly warm enough, and he hurried from building to building with his short cape pulled tight around his shoulders, his breath puffing out in small silver clouds of mist. Why hadn’t he thought to bring a coat?!

Not that anyone else in the academy seemed to need one. Aside from Petra, no one else even seemed to  _ notice _ how cold it had gotten, and that made it even worse for Claude. He hated appearing weaker than his fellow students, but even worse than that, he hated  _ standing out _ . Being noticed for his cutting wit and genius schemes was something Claude could be proud of; being one of only two students at the school who hated the cold wasn’t.

“Ah… Ahhhh.... AHHHH- _ CHOO!” _

Claude’s sneeze echoed through the dormitories. Curse Fódlan’s miserable weather!

As soon as he reached Dimitri’s room near the end of the corridor, Claude kicked off his heeled boots, clambered onto the bed and immediately wrapped himself up in the thick woollen blanket that rested at the foot of it, leaving only his face exposed to the elements.

Dimitri, sitting at his desk with a quill in-hand and a blank strip of parchment in front of him, just shook his head.

“I had a feeling that sneeze was yours. You’re not catching cold, are you?”

As the warmth of the blanket started to seep through his skin, Claude shivered. There was a blanket in his own room that he should have thought to bring with him, but it wasn’t as warm as the one Dimitri had been sent from Fhirdiad. And it didn’t have the added benefit of smelling like his beloved boyfriend.

“No,” Claude mumbled from his cocoon. “I don’t think so, anyway. I just hate the cold, is all.”

“You know, Garreg Mach is considered to have a mild climate by many standards.”

“Not by mine.”

He gave an unhappy sniff and buried himself completely under the blanket. Through it, he heard Dimitri’s muffled laugh and quiet words that he couldn’t quite make out. A moment later, Claude felt the bed dip as Dimitri sat down beside him, and an arm rest across his back. Claude lifted the edge of the blanket just enough that Dimitri could snuggle in next to him, leaving the two of them embraced in the woolen cave. Together. Safe.

Through the dark, Claude shifted and reached out his hand to find Dimitri’s cheek; his fingers brushed against soft lips instead, and he blushed when Dimitri kissed them. He was about to say something stupidly romantic when the sound of Dimitri’s door opening made them both freeze.

Hilda’s voice was clear even through the blanket. “Heya Dimitri! I was looking for Claude and… huh?”

It must have been an odd sight. Dimitri’s room empty save for the strange huddling form on his bed with Dimitri’s still-booted feet hanging out of it, as though he were being chewed up by some strange creature. Certainly not the sight Hilda had expected.

“Is, uh… Claude even in here?” A faint sound from within the blanket’s depths was her only answer, but it sounded Claude-like enough to satisfy her. “Alright, well, Lorenz wanted to see you when you’re… done. Bye!”

The door clicked shut behind her, and Claude shoved his face into his hands with a groan.

Just short of an hour later, Claude waltzed into the Golden Deer classroom with a wide smile on his face and a spring in his step. It had taken some convincing, but Claude had managed to find an exceptional way to beat the winter cold, and he couldn’t be more pleased with himself, even if Hilda, Lorenz, and Leonie were currently gawking at him.

Leonie was the first to speak. “Is that… what I think it is?”

“A disgrace, is what it is,” snorted Lorenz. “Have you no shame?”

“I don’t know, that  _ is _ kinda cute.”

Draped over Claude’s shoulders was the blanket from Dimitri’s room, it’s sapphire colour and traditional Faerghus patterns making it perfectly clear who the blanket’s original owner had been. Yes, Dimitri had been reluctant to let Claude walk around with his blanket, concerned about the implications, but Claude had managed to sweet-talk him into saying yes. Now, as he clutched the woolen material to his chin, he was warm, he felt safe, and he could carry Dimitri’s smell with him wherever he went. Rumors be damned, Claude didn’t plan on leaving his room without it until spring had arrived, and maybe even a week or two after that.


	3. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #4: Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit late! I decided to combine Prompt 3 with the day 7 prompt, hence why I've jumped straight to #4.
> 
> Also I in no way expected to get as many comments on the last two chapters as I did!! Thank you everyone so so much, it's incredible to see how many of you enjoyed reading these pieces so far! I'll try to reply to everyone when I get time but I appreciate all of you SO MUCH!!!

Dimitri woke screaming. The sound, choked and ragged, was ripped from his throat against his body’s will, spurred by the images - the memories - in his sleeping mind. 

_ Fire _ . So much fire… So much screaming…

As he was thrown back into consciousness by the volume of his own cracked voice, Dimitri’s muscles jerked him upright, his lungs heaving against his ribs. The echoes of the scream rang sharply in his ears. It wasn’t the first time he had done this - it certainly wouldn’t be the last - and its effect on him never lessened. Usually, he would sit trembling and shaking at the edge of his bed until dawn arrived, hands clamped over his ears to try and shut out the echoes as they morphed into something even more horrendous, voices that weren’t his own, a scream that became his name repeated over and over…

“What in the gods’ names was that??”

Dimitri jumped, having completely forgotten that he wasn’t alone. 

Barely awake next to him, his hair comically mussed, Claude pushed himself up onto an elbow and reached out to touch Dimitri’s arm; on instinct, Dimitri flinched away.

“S-Sorry,” he stammered, unable to control his shaking. “I… I didn’t mean to wake you…”

“Didn’t mean to…?” Claude huffed and ran his hand over his face. “Yes, Dimitri, how dare you have a nightmare and wake me up. Are you alright?”

How could he answer that? Dimitri wasn’t alright, he was far from it, but the last thing he wanted was to explain that to Claude, to have Claude look at him the same way Felix and Ingrid did; like he wasn’t  _ him _ anymore, like the horrors he’d lived through were more a part of him than his own soul, or what was left of it.

A gentle touch on his trembling arm again, but this time Dimitri was able to stop himself from pulling away.

“This happens a fair bit, doesn’t it?” Claude asked him. “I, uh… I hear it sometimes. I’m guessing this is the reason you’ve never let me stay with you overnight, huh?”

Dimitri swallowed against the hard lump stuck in his throat, and nodded. “It… It is, yes. I… I don’t like people… seeing this side of me.”

“The side of you that isn’t the ideal, chivalrous prince of Faerghus, you mean?”

“...Yes.”

The blanket rustled as Claude shifted to sit beside him, and Dimitri felt Claude’s shoulder lean into his own. It soothed Dimitri more than he had expected; Claude’s comforting presence and gentle weight against him steadied his shaking, and his breathing became ever so slightly easier. 

“The nightmares, they… They’re always the same. Images I saw four years ago.”

A pause. “The Tragedy of Duscur.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question, but Dimitri nodded again anyway. He had never spoken about what he saw in his nightmares, not even with Dedue, but something about Claude always made Dimitri feel so safe, like he could peel back his armour and expose his skin for once, without the fear of being cut down. They had spent so much time together over the past month - studying together, speaking together, sitting together in their rooms, sharing nervous kisses and warm hugs - and over that time Claude had learned to see right through his mask, and Dimitri was no longer afraid to let him see. Somehow, he knew he could trust Claude.

“It’s the fire,” he said at last, his voice weak. “All around me. It takes the shape of people I saw die, and it’s like their hands are reaching for me. I can’t run away. All I can do is watch as it gets closer and closer…”

The kiss on his cheek surprises Dimitri, but also delights him. His heart starts to race again, for a very different reason, and the buzz across his skin is so much nicer than the phantom flames.

“I can’t say I’m a big fan of fire, either,” admitted Claude. “Back home, we used to have these enormous bonfires for our celebrations. We’d dance around it, singing and laughing, but if I ever got too close to it…”

He leaned away from Dimitri suddenly. Unlike Dimitri, who slept bare-chested, Claude wore a loose tunic - gold, of course. As Dimitri watched, curious, Claude pulled the hem down from his neck to expose his left shoulder and the top of his upper arm. The moonlight through the room’s windows was dim, but still bright enough for him to make out a wide, jagged patch across Claude’s skin.

“Burn mark,” Claude continued. “Got it when I was ten years old. Someone decided to try and ruin my pretty face, but missed.”

“Why?” Dimitri couldn’t keep the outrage from his voice. “Why would someone try to do such a thing?”

Claude shrugged, covering the mark again. “I was different. People don’t like things that are different; they don’t trust them, and that distrust can easily turn to hate. Here in Fódlan, a lot of people still hate me because I’m different, but at least no one’s tried to set me on fire.”

His tone was humorous, but Dimitri saw through it; Dimitri was the only one who struggled to be vulnerable around others. He reached his arms around Claude and drew him in close to his chest, pressing his lips to Claude’s hair.

“I’m sorry, Claude.”

Claude looped his own arms around Dimitri’s waist, humming.

“I’m sorry for you, too, but it’s not gonna change anything, is it? We can’t change what happened to us in our past, but we  _ can _ use it to help shape our future. To make sure that what happens to us never happens again.”

The future? Dimitri had barely considered what his future would hold beyond one particular goal, a goal that was tied directly to the past that, as Claude suggested, had shaped him - or, perhaps it was better to say,  _ unshaped _ him, changed him into what he was now. Was that really true? Was he truly so bent by his past that he couldn’t move forward? 

“Claude…”

“Yeah, Mitya?”

“If I want a better future… do you think you could help me find it?”

Claude lifted his head and leaned in to place a kiss against Dimitri’s lips, a gentle, heart-felt gesture that warmed Dimitri’s fragile heart.

“I promise I will.”


	4. Sweater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #5: Sweater

New Year’s in Fhirdiad was a surprisingly colourful affair for such a grey, sombre city, and Claude enjoyed being a part of it immensely - or he would, if it wasn’t for the freezing temperatures.

Ever since he and Dimitri had gotten engaged, they had decided to spend their New Year celebrations between their respective home cities; one year they visit Fhirdiad, the next they’d go to Almyra, then back to Fhirdiad and so on. Both cities had plenty of seasonal activities, and though Claude was particularly partial to the Almyran tradition of attending huge feasts and eating oneself into a coma, he had to admit that the Faerghus customs of singing, decorating the city’s trees, brightly lit markets, and freshly baked treats were a very close second. Especially when Dimitri would lead him through the city, telling him everything he could about the origins of the traditions or why they were important. Even if Claude heard the same stories a dozen times, he never minded; it was just nice to see Dimitri so happy.

He just wished it wasn’t so darn  _ cold _ . Even with the thick wool coat Dimitri had bought him as a New Year’s gift two years ago, Claude could still feel the winter’s biting wind through it, and huddled close to Dimitri, trying to use him as a walking human shield against it. With a laugh, Dimitri looped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

“I’m sorry, I forget how much the cold affects you. Do you truly find it so bad?”

Claude nodded, watching his breath puff out in white clouds in front of him. “Remember how you thought you were going to die that one time we visited Almyra in summer? You asked me if it was possible for a person to melt.”

“How could I forget?” A thoughtful hum. “Ah, I see - you in the cold is as bad as me in the heat, is that it? There does seem to be a storm on the way, so perhaps we should head back home.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Side by side, they walked home together to the impressive house that had once belonged to Dimitri’s parents, in the thick of Fhirdiad’s central district. The two of them, along with Dimitri’s close friend Dedue, had decorated the old stone building and its arching window frames with lights of red, silver and gold that shone brightly in welcome as the sky overhead continued to darken. 

Inside, Dimitri called out in greeting and received a reply from Dedue; Claude suspected he must be preparing dinner in the kitchen, if the incredible smell was anything to go by. Thank the gods for Dedue and his cooking, or Claude may have driven out of Fódlan by the sheer blandness of the food, and wouldn’t have lasted a day in Faerghus. His own cooking was passable by his standards, at least, but Dedue’s was a league of its own.

He was distracted from thinking about dinner when Dimitri gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“I just need to get something from upstairs. Wait down here, ok?”

“Sure, Mitya.”

Claude watched him shrug out of his coat and hurry upstairs before removing his own coat and heading for the living room, sitting himself down in front of the fireplace, grateful to get some heat back in his bones. As he did, white snow began to fall beyond the window, and Claude watched as the rare dots quickened to a thick curtain of sleet. Even after two winters in Faerghus, and quite a few more in the Alliance, Claude doubted he’d ever quite get used to seeing snow. He was certain he’d never get used to walking through it.

“Claude, there you are!”

Distracted from the snowfall, Claude looked up to see Dimitri walking over to him, a poorly-wrapped bundle in his hands. He held it out to Claude, who took it with a frown.

“Isn’t it a few days before we start giving each other presents?”

Dimitri seemed suddenly shy about something. “Well, yes, but… You said you were cold, and I thought this might help. I’ve been working on it for a while...”

“'Working on it'?” Claude repeated, starting to carefully peel back the haphazard wrapping. “Wait, is this what you’ve been doing with Mercedes all this time?”

“Um, well…”

He was caught off by Claude’s delighted gasp. The wool material was soft on his fingers as he held up the large, golden, and horrendously oversized sweater. The sleeves were different lengths and both far too long, there were spots where the knit was too loose or where it had been patched up with a slightly different colour. There was no doubting where it had come from.

“Did… Did you make this, Mitya?” His voice wavered, and he realised he felt like he was about to cry. “You made this just for me?”

Before Dimitri could respond Claude was already tugging the sweater on over his head. It itched a little, and as Claude expected it was far too big for him, but it didn’t matter; all Claude cared about was the fact that Dimitri had made it for him. It pulled the collar of the sweater up to his nose and breathed in. It even smelled like him.

“I’m sorry, it’s not very good…” Dimitri was saying. “Mercedes was very patient with me but, well…”

“It’s perfect, Mitya!”

Claude leapt to his feet and practically threw himself at Dimitri, winding his arms around him and squeezing as tight as he could. His lips found Dimitri’s and covered them in kisses.

“I love it almost as much as I love you.”

He would never get tired of watching the tips of Dimitri’s ears turn red whenever he heard those words. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to watch for long as Dimitri scooped him up off his feet and pulled him into a loving kiss.


	5. Tranquil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #6: Tranquil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sobs in 'Dimitri deserved better')
> 
> **Route Spoilers for Golden Deer/Verdant Wind**

The room was still dark when Dimitri woke. He wasn’t sure what had stirred him from his sleep - it hadn’t been a nightmare, he was sure of that; there was no shaking, no ringing in his ears, no soreness in his throat from screaming. That, and Claude was still sound asleep beside him, curled up on his side with his hair flopped over his face.

There was no sight in the world that could make Dimitri happier than the sight of Claude at peace. That handsome face, usually trained into a practiced smile and a charming wink, or furrowed into a frown as he looked over documents or maps, looked so soft and relaxed, so natural, when Claude was sleeping, and Dimitri could watch him for hours like that. He reached out and carefully brushed the hair away from Claude’s face, tucking it back behind his ear, so that his view was unobstructed. How lucky was he to have this all to himself?

Dimitri supposed that, in many ways, it really had been luck that had brought him here, to Claude’s room at Garreg Mach once again, five years and many months after the first time he’d been in a position like this. It was luck that, as he pursued Edelgard across the blood-soaked ground of Gronder Field, the thrown spear that pierced his back had missed his heart. That the lances and swords that followed it hadn’t been enough to kill him before, through the red haze and flames, Claude came charging through the sky on his white wyvern. That, with his blood soaking the wyvern’s scales, Claude had carried him back to Marianne in time, and her magic had been enough to enough to drag him back from the death he had all-but embraced.

It was more than luck, however, that, as Claude had sat beside him in the monastery’s infirmary, his words had broken through the shadows of Dimitri’s shattered mind, and given him a chance to clamber back towards the light he had forgotten existed.

That was months ago now. The war still thundered on, enemies continued to surround them, Edelgard still stood at the head of the Empire’s storm, her axe poised above Fodlan’s neck, ready to deliver the final blow. But now Dimitri had sworn himself to Claude, had made him a promise to continue living, to fight not just to quell the demons of the past, but to build a future where not only he, but the entire continent could know peace. Dimitri would do whatever he could to keep that promise.

Still, Dimitri doubted that no matter how much time passed, he would never forget the moment as he lay broken and bloodstained, the fire of bloodlust warring with the icy chill of blood loss, realising that he was dying, when he looked up through the smoke and tears and saw Claude’s panicked face as he reached out to him, and wanting nothing more than to  _ live _ . For the first time in so many long, agonising years, Dimitri  _ wanted _ life. And it was because of Claude. Because the fear across Claude’s face was so much worse than the angry faces of the ghosts that followed him; worse even than the face of his father in his dreams. 

Never again would Dimitri allow such fear to cross Claude’s heart, not if he could help it. 

Right now, as they lay facing each other beneath the golden blanket, the war raging around them could almost be forgotten. The world narrowed down to just the two of them in that precious moment, safe and at peace. Dimitri reached out and traced his fingertips across Claude’s cheek, wanting to feel his radiant warmth; it had the unfortunate effect of making Claude twitch, huff, and sleepily open his gorgeous green eyes.

“...Mitya…?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Claude snaked his hand out of the blanket to place it over Dimitri’s; the warmth of that touch reached past his skin and into his soul.

“Are you ok?”

A smile pulled at Dimitri’s lips.

“I couldn’t be better.”

Claude returned his smile with a warm one of his own before shuffling closer, so that their nose tips touched and their foreheads were pressed together. Forget the war, the chaos, the voices of the dead - forget all of it. Right now, there was just Claude and Dimitri, the warmth of their bodies, and the endless love they had for one another.


	6. Warm Mugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #8: Warm Mugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I've missed a few prompts and that I'm behind on a couple - I've been really quite unwell the past few days and writing has been difficult. I'll be doing a piece for prompt 10 and will hopefully to be back on-schedule with prompt 11!

It was late in the evening. Most sensible inhabitants of Fhirdiad castle were readying themselves for bed or already sound asleep, and Dimitri was glad that no one was around to witness his late-night venture down into the kitchens to brew two hot mugs of tea. Ever carefully, he carried the two cups back along the many winding staircases and dark corridors of the castle to the royal chambers on one of the higher floors. There, he grappled with the door for a moment, managing not to spill any of the hot tea on his hands, and stepped inside.

The grumpy creak of the door opening distracted Claude from his work. He looked up from where he was hunched over their large shared desk, one elbow resting on a stack of unread letters, his face propped up by the fist squished into his cheek. His other hand held his quill halfway back from the inkwell, black droplets dripping down onto whatever he was working on. The green eyes that watched him lightened just a touch, and Claude even managed a half-hearted smile.

“Back already?”

Dimitri couldn’t help but smile as whatever other comments Claude might have made were lost in a long yawn.

“You haven’t written a single letter since I left, have you?”

“...Nope.”

Shaking his head, Dimitri set one of the mugs down in front of Claude, who leaned down to sniff it.

“Mm, chamomile.” He lifted the mug and took a sip, closing his eyes. The trek back from the kitchens meant that it was almost the perfect temperature, and Claude seemed to savour the taste for a moment before leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “Trying to put me to sleep, are you?” 

“You really should get some rest, you know.”

Claude cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? That sounds funny coming from you, Mitya.”

He had a point. Instead of admitting that, Dimitri lifted his mug to his lips; the tea was warm and soothing, and even if it had no taste for him, the smell of it was still enough to delight his senses. He could already feel it working wonders on his tense body. Lowering his mug again, he crossed to the other side of the desk, resting and arm on Claude’s shoulder as he bent over to look at the letter Claude had been working on. It was blank.

“Hm. Making progress, I see.”

“I’m trying a new style of writing letters that I like to call ‘minimalist’.” Claude was quick to quip back with a tired smirk. “I really think it gets my point across.”

“You mean the point that you have nothing to say?”

Claude’s hand batted his arm away and Dimitri leaned back, chuckling. Setting the mug aside, Claude gave a huff and pushed the unstarted letter back onto the pile of blank parchment.

“Maybe you’re right. I’m too tired to deal with flouncy nobles complaining about the price of leather.” He ran his hand through his hair - likely not the first time he’d performed the gesture tonight, judging by how mussed it looked. “How much trouble would it cause if I just told him to suck it up and focus on more important issues like resettling refugees or food shortages in Adrestia? Not enough to start a noble rebellion?”

As he spoke, Dimitri had moved to stand behind him, the arm not holding his mug settled loosely around Claude’s torso, his chin hovering over the top of Claude’s head.

“You know Leicester nobles better than I do, Your Majesty, King of Almyra and Leader of the United Fodlan.” He placed a kiss to Claude’s messy hair. “Can’t Lorenz deal with it?”

“Maybe.” Claude retrieved his mug for another sip, content to let Dimitri stay as he was. “I’ll think about it tomorrow. This tea really is putting me to sleep.”

Dimitri hummed. “I was wondering… how does it taste?”

“Want to find out?”

Claude tilted his head up and Dimitri leaned in to press their lips together. As it always did, the contact filled his head with a wonderful buzz, and his heart flipped in his chest. There was something about the intimacy of the gesture, or about the way his mind seemed to reel and spin, that rerouted the wiring in his brain just enough that suddenly, very faintly, he could  _ taste _ the flowery sweetness of chamomile on Claude’s lips. Then they pulled away, and the taste was gone; Dimitri rang his tongue over his lip, missing it already.

“Well?” Claude asked, watching him bright but sleepy eyes. 

“It’s… sweeter than I expected.”

“Huh. I could say the same about you.”

Even through his weariness, Claude’s grin was as charming and mischievous as ever, and Dimitri couldn’t help but bring their lips together once more.


	7. Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts #10, 11, & 13: Forest, Wings, & Reptiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling better but I'm insanely busy with work and other fic projects, so I've decided to just do the Fictober prompts I have the best ideas for and not pressure myself to do a piece for every prompt. As an apology for the recent delay (and for combining three fics in one), this piece is longer than usual. If I get the time I may go back and do a real piece for the Reptiles prompt, rather than combining Wings and Reptile under the use of a wyvern in the story...
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“Slow down!”

Dimitri’s words were snatched from his lips and tossed aside by the wind as he galloped across one of the many open fields surrounding Garreg Mach monastery, urging his horse on in pursuit of Claude’s little grey ahead of him. The smaller horse was faster, quicker on its feet, than Dimitri’s tall black mare, and the pace Claude set was a furious one - he’d given no more warning than a wink and a laugh and off he went, racing through the grass, and Dimitri was cursing and chasing after him.

“_Claude!” _ He tried shouting again, and Claude looked over his shoulder, eyes watering from the bite of the wind and a wide smile across his face. “We should slow down!”

Whether Claude had heard him or not, the slight turn of his body in the saddle had caused the little grey to slow enough that Dimitri could finally catch up to him. Their horses pulled up alongside one another, one stride of the black mare’s to almost two of the grey’s, but Dimitri was too absorbed for a second in the wild and reckless look on Claude’s face that he completely forgot what he’d been trying to say. He shook his head to clear it and blinked hard.

“We should slow down,” he said, not needing to shout now. “The horses will tire too much.”

Claude laughed, an extraordinary sound that was, for only the second time Dimitri had heard, honest and genuinely happy. The first time had been right after their first kiss, when Dimitri had been so flustered that Claude couldn’t help but find it amusing. Dimitri was still a little sheepish about that.

“We’re nearly there,” Claude answered, letting his horse slow back to a trot. “I wanted to make sure we had enough time before the sun started to set.”

“Time for what?”

The grin on Claude’s face turned secretive. “You’ll see.”

They continued at a trot until they reached the forest ahead of them, where the tree grew too close together to ride alongside each other. Their horses settled to a walk, huffing and snorting, and Claude took the lead, looping his way through the trees as his eyes scanned the undergrowth ahead of them. As the green field disappeared from view and the forest surrounded them, Dimitri realised there was no clear trail that Claude was following. He was about to ask Claude how they intended to find their way back when he suddenly gave a cry of success and leapt from his horse.

“What is it?” Dimitri halted his horse, suddenly wishing he’d thought to bring a lance with him. “Is something wrong?”

Too busy half-buried in a shrub, Claude apparently didn’t hear him over the mad rustling as he searched for something. A few moments of struggling and cursing, then he re-emerged, his hair decorated with leaves and twigs and clutching something in his hands.

“Strawberries!”

He opened his hands to reveal a batch of plump, bright red berries. Dimitri wasn’t sure what he had expected, but the realisation that Claude had led him all the way out here to the forest to go looking for strawberries with him warmed his heart to its very core. Dismounting his mare and keeping a hold of the reins, he gingerly took one of the strawberries and popped it into his mouth. Even though he was unable to taste it, the texture of the seeds and flesh reminded him of strawberries he had enjoyed back before he’d lost the sense, and he remembered the refreshing sweetness.

“They’re wonderful,” he told Claude, smiling as he took another one. “How did you know they were here?”

Claude seemed delighted, his grin widening before he took a bite out of one of the berries himself. “I used to go looking for berries all the time when I was younger, so I learned what to look for. Garreg Mach is pretty different to… where I grew up, but I wanted to see if maybe I could still find some. Guess I was right!”

A quiet chuckle escaped Dimitri. Even after the few months they had known each other, Dimitri felt that there would simply be no end to the ways that Claude would surprise him.

He was about to reach for his third strawberry when the sound of snapping branches had him whirling around, reaching for his absent weapon, to see Claude’s little grey gelding, also startled by the sound, leap into the air and kick its feathered up once before galloping back through the trees the way they’d come. Dropping his strawberries, Claude ran after it a few steps before realising the horse was long gone and giving up.

“Oh, _ come on! _You’re kidding me, right?”

Glad he’d thought to keep one hand on his own horse’s reins, Dimitri soothed the nervous mare with a stroke of his hand down her shoulder. Now horseless and with his strawberries in the dirt, the look on Claude’s face was nothing short of a pout as he stomped back to where Dimitri waited, grumbling something or other about ‘just his luck’. 

“I guess you’ll just have to ride back with me,” Dimitri remarked, struggling to keep the chuckle out of his voice. "If you don't mind."

Even with the broken sunlight casting patterns across Claude’s face, Dimitri was almost certain he saw a blush across his cheeks.

“O-Oh… I guess that’s true…”

He suddenly didn’t sound so upset. After replenishing their supply of strawberries and carefully securing them in Claude’s pockets, Dimitri swung himself gracefully up into the saddle and reached down to lift Claude up behind him with impressive ease. With only a the shortest moment of hesitation, Claude looped his arms around Dimitri’s waist and rested his chin on Dimitri’s shoulder. They rode back like that together at an easy walk, and when the monastery came back into sight, Dimitri felt a deep sadness suddenly rise in his gut without warning. Some terrible feeling that warned him to savour this time together while he still could.  


Five years later, Dimitri finds himself once again seated in front of Claude on a saddle, but the joy of that moment is long gone. 

Dimitri is slumped over almost onto the scaled neck of Claude’s wyvern, the heavy beating of its wings and the sound of Claude’s panicked voice fainter than they should be. He could feel Claude’s arm gripping his torso, trying to hold him upright despite the weight of his damaged armour. Through blurred vision he looked down, and saw Claude’s hand red with blood that dripped down from the wound in his gut.

“Just hang in there, ok! Dimitri? Stay with me, you’ll be alright! Stay with me, Mitya!”

Stay with Claude… Dimitri wanted to, would rather be with Claude than anywhere else, but Edelgard had been getting away and the voices in his ear had told him to follow. How could he deny them when revenge was so close? So close…

The world began to tip, and Claude’s arm tightened around him as the wyvern swayed, thrown off by the shifting weight.

“Dimitri! Come on, you gotta hang in there, ok?” Claude’s voice was wavering, his words choked. “Just… Do you remember that time we rode to the forest? When we found those strawberries? Do you remember how sweet they were?”

Strawberries. Bright crimson, the colour of blood. Tasteless on his tongue.

“We were racing over the field and you told me to slow down…”

The wind tousling Claude’s hair, the wild look in his green eyes. Free.

“Then my horse ran off and we rode back together. Do you remember?”

Warm. Safe. Content. Dimitri remembered, but it felt like a lifetime ago, the images in his mind dark and distorted. He tried to focus on them, on the memory of Claude’s hands on his waist and his lips against Dimitri’s cheek, but the world was slipping away from him and it was difficult to concentrate. Soon it was all he could do to cling to Claude’s voice as his eye fell shut.

“Dimitri? _ Dimitri!?” _

The wind was cool against his face, Claude’s breath warm against his cheek. The steady thrum of the wyvern’s wings fell in-time with his slowing heartbeat. He felt weightless, all the burdens in the world suddenly lifted from his weary shoulders as he soared through the air with Claude. It was a nice place to be, he decided. A shame it would be so short-lived…

Through the dark he dreamt of green canopies and flying across the fields of Garreg Mach, of red strawberries and bloodied wyvern scales, of distant memories that filled his aching heart with warmth.  


Quiet.

The soft sounds of his own ragged breathing. His body stiff and sore. Dimitri opened his eye to golden morning light in an unfamiliar room, staring up at a stone ceiling. Alive? The hunger in his gut made it likely, as did the pain in his chest. When he glanced down, he saw clean bandages wrapped around his torso. A soft mumble, not his own.

He turned his head slightly to the left. On a small chair next to the bed, Claude sat slumped with his chin on his chest, hair bedraggled and clothes still spattered with blood, sound asleep. On the nightstand beside him was a pile of strawberries.

Alive. Warm.

Content.


	8. Enchanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts # 9 & 16: Magic & Enchanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer than I thought it would but I loved this idea so much and started getting carried away. High fantasy AU for Dimiclaude? Hmmm....

The tavern was a cacophony of sound. Tankards clanked on wooden tables, ale spilled on worn leather boots, raucous laughter rattled the ceiling. 

“Y’hear?” A voice louder than the others, close by. “Another knight got killed trying to rescue the Faerghus prince. Burned to a crisp.”

A second voice. “Small wonder. That dragon’s so bloody fierce the prince is probably dead by now. It’s been nine years, after all.”

“Aye, and what a terrible nine they’ve been,” the first voice spoke again. “The prince kidnapped by a rampaging dragon, right out from under the king’s nose. Kingdom’s been falling to ruin ever since.”

“I’ve half a mind to go try slaying the thing myself, whether the damn prince is alive or not.”

“Ha! I hope you ain’t afraid of being eaten, then.”

Claude stood from his seat at the corner of the tavern. A prince held captive by a dragon, eh? That seemed like just the sort of challenge he’d been looking for.

  
  


The journey to into the northernmost reaches of Faerghus was a far from pleasant one. Even in the spring, this part of Fodlan was unbearably cold for a man like Claude, who was far more accustomed to the sweltering heat of Almyra. Pulling his coat tight around his shoulders, he urged his little grey mare on against the biting wind, already starting to regret his decision.

The villagers had made no mention of a coin reward for the prince’s safe return from the clutches of a wicked dragon, and Faerghus had never been known for its abundance of wealth, but Claude had his own reasons for setting out on such an impossible quest. Firstly, he was looking to extend his reputation as one of Fodlan’s - and beyond’s - finest adventurers, a fame that had already earned him many admirers and, more usefully, countless nights of free lodging. Secondly, however, Claude was curious. Curious about the prince that had supposedly survived nine years in a ruined fort, and about the beast that held him captive there. He had a feeling, as he often did, that there was more to this story than there seemed.

If only it wasn’t so damn cold.

The winding path Claude had been instructed to take by the villagers took him high into the mountains where the fort was supposedly located, and as he ascended the wind’s bite grew fiercer and the air’s chill worsened, until even his cloak couldn’t keep the cold at bay. Even the sun high above them failed to warm him, like the mountains themselves were sapping all the heat from the world. His teeth chattered, and the sound of it bounced off the stone walls and gullies around him, threatening to spook his horse. When he rounded an especially narrow corner and at last saw a dark, hulking shape looming up from the centre of a small, rocky valley, he felt no fear or hesitation, only relief. Anything was better than this cursed trail.

There was a mostly-intact sheltered stabling area where Claude was to dismount and loosely tether his horse; if things went badly, the little mare would hopefully be able to get loose and gallop back down to safety, rather than becoming a secondary meal after Claude has become the first… He shuddered. While getting eaten was certainly  _ not _ what he had hoped to get out of this adventure, it was certainly a risk of the job. At least he’d be cooked by dragonfire first.

“I’ll be back,” he said to the grey, patting its neck. “Hopefully.”

With that, he made his way carefully to rotted wood of the fort’s large doors, found a crack large enough to squeeze through, and snuck his way inside.

From the outside, the fort hadn’t looked particularly dilapidated, but now that Claude stood within it the massive holes in the ceiling sent beams of pale light into the grim interior, decorated by rubble, moss, and rotten furniture. Large puddles of water had begun to pool underneath the gaps in the roof, and vines had begun to weave their way between the stones. Careful not to make a sound, Claude crept his way across to an old cabinet by the wall closest to him and opened one of the drawers. Empty, save for dust-riddled cobwebs and rat droppings. He wrinkled his nose and shut it.

As he turned to investigate the rest of the room, Claude felt the undeniable sensation of eyes watching him. Scanning the dim shadows around him turned up no sign of an observer, but as he ventured further into the dark there  _ was _ evidence of something living here. There was no food that Claude would consider suitable for human eating, or places comfortable enough to sleep, but at the far end of the fort’s main hall, past doorways that had long-since collapsed in on themselves or rotted into ruin, were bones, a significant amount of them, scorched and cracked, and a large mound of dead shrubs, moulded blankets, and wet straw.

A dragon’s nest if ever Claude had seen one, though not the coziest. And where there was a nest…

The sensation of being watched turned into a terrifying tickle at the back of his neck, and his ears caught the soft hiss of scales sliding against stone. Swallowing down the hard lump of fear in his throat, Claude steeled himself against the screaming of his nerves to run and turned around. 

The dragon was easily twice the size of a wyvern, its head almost as big as Claude’s body. In the poor light its scales, silver and royal blue and dotted with black, still managed to give off a dull shine. Most striking of all to Claude were the dragon’s blazing blue eyes, fixed on him and gleaming with rage.

Before Claude could so much as draw in a sharp breath of surprise, the creature’s massive jaws opened in an ear-shattering roar, loud and powerful enough that Claude could feel the stones shaking under his feet. Sharp, glistening teeth lined the huge maw stretched open in front of them, plentiful and strong enough to tear him to shreds. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all…

The roar grumbled to an end and the horrifying mouth thankfully fell shut as the dragon watched him, hunkered down on its powerful legs, tail lashing back and forth; it seemed to be waiting, however, not quite ready to kill him yet, so Claude seized his chance and cleared his throat, ignoring the ringing in his ears.

“Uh… hello there! Sorry to drop in unannounced, but I heard there was a prince trapped here and I -  _ AGH!” _

Claude barely leapt out of the way as the dragon’s jaws snapped closed on the space he’d been standing. Adrenaline lending him a surprising burst of agility, he skittered behind a large stack of bones for cover. Among them, he noticed now, where a few blackened pieces of armour. He tried not to let that put him off.

“So, a sensitive subject, is it?” He raised his hands, making it clear that he was unarmed. “I’m not here to fight you. I just want to ask about the prince.”

The dragon growled at him but made no further attempts to attack, which Claude took as a positive sign that firstly, the dragon could understand him, and secondly, that it was willing to listen. At least for now.

“See, the stories I’ve heard say that the prince has been here for nine years, but I don’t see any sign of him. No food, no bed, no fire to keep warm, nothing. So if he’s not here, where is he?”

This time, Claude knew what was coming when he saw the dragon’s muscles tense and his neck curl back before it lunged for him again, was able to get clear well before the teeth snapped shut. It seemed to be more of a warning than an attempt to kill him. 

“Tell me, dragon,” he was getting bolder now, “is the prince alive?”

The dragon’s mouth opened again, and this time Claude could see a bright glow at the back of its throat. Perhaps too bold, then. He ducked behind a wall as a ball of flames erupted against the wall, scattering bones across the floor. When the flames fizzled into smoke, Claude peered back around the corner to see the dragon glaring at him.

“What is it about the prince that makes you so upset?” He stepped into the open again, hands on his hips. “I only want to know if the prince is alive or not. Nod for yes, shake for no.”

The dragon’s gaze softened. It seemed to ponder the question, a low rumbling in its throat, before it looked away. Claude blinked.

“What? He can’t be neither! Either the prince is alive or dead, he can’t be…”

Unless. The lack of a bed or food, no fire for warmth, no signs of human habitation at all, managing to survive in the freezing cold with no supplies for nine entire years… There was no trapped prince here at all.

His eyes widened. “Of course! The prince wasn’t kidnapped by a dragon... The prince  _ is _ a dragon! All this time the dragon wasn’t hiding a prince here, the prince was hiding here because he -  _ you _ got turned into a dragon somehow. Is that right?”

A soft sound from the dragon - the prince. It might have sounded like a hum or a whimper, but from a beast so large it was dangerously close to a growl. The prince turned turned around, its long tail sweeping across the stones, and began to walk away, large talons clicking; Claude hurried after him.

“Hey! Hey, wait! I want to try to help you!”

A huff from the prince, but he kept walking, forcing Claude to speed up until he could overtake the large strides and stand in front of him, forcing him to stop. The prince glowered down at him, as close to pouting as a dragon could get. But here Claude was stumped. So the prince was a dragon, yes, but how could Claude turn him back? He’d run into plenty of stories about dragons and magics that could turn people  _ into _ creatures, but little about how to turn them back. For a long while he stood there, a hand on his chin and a thoughtful look on his face, as the prince watched him with the same gleaming blue eyes, the rage in them now replaced with a strange sort of sadness. 

A faint memory stuck to him. It was a folktale he’d heard in Almyra as a child, about a beautiful dancer who had been turned into a swan by a jilted lover, who had sought magic as a means to get revenge. Unable to dance, the swan had lived in misery until a young Almyran woman had seen the forlorn swan and befriended it. The swan had been turned back into a human dancer when… ah!

Claude grinned up at the prince suddenly, who tilted its head. 

“Can you lower your head down here, please?”

The prince’s eyes narrowed, wary, but he complied, craning his neck down until his eyes were level with Claude’s, his snout hovering in front of Claude’s chest. With him this close, a new wave of nerves washed over him, his brain yelling at him to run, but instead he lifted his hands and ran them over the small scales of the sharp nose.

“Woah,” he gasped. “I always thought dragon scales would be sharp, but… they’re really soft…”

A warm breath blew over him, and Claude chuckled, stroking his fingers over the silver and blue scales before leaning forward.

“I’m not sure if this will work, but it’s worth a try, I suppose?”

Shutting his eyes, Claude pressed his lips to the prince’s nose in a gentle peck. At first, nothing happened, and Claude tilted his weight back to watch the prince, who waited with closed eyes and soft breaths. Then, barely noticeable at first, Claude felt a chin under his hands still resting on the prince’s scales, and then scales faded beneath his touch. Not just the feeling of them, but the image as well; the sight of the dragon in front of him dissipated into a blue and silver mist that swirled through the air, twisting and spiralling wildly before beginning to reform, reshaping itself, into the shape of a human. 

He was taller, notably taller than Claude, and blonde, with the same blue eyes he’d had as a dragon. Unfortunately, he seemed to be wearing whatever clothes he’d had on when he was changed, and they now hung from him in tatters. Claude was quick to remove his cloak and wrap it around the prince’s trembling shoulders.

“I can’t believe that worked,” laughed Claude as he stepped away again. “How does it feel?”

The prince was staring down at his hands, eyes wide. When he tried to speak, his voice was croaky, like he was struggling to use his words. Which, after spending nine years as a dragon, was probably true.

“How… How did you… figure it out…?”

Claude shrugged. “Honestly, it was mostly a guess. When I realised there was probably no prince, there was really only one other answer, even if it was a bit of a stretch. As for changing you back… Yeah, that was definitely a guess.”

“I’m in your debt.” The prince smiled, and it was the most dazzling thing Claude had ever seen. “I am Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, and I cannot thank you enough for helping me. When I… was changed, I was terrified. People thought I was a monster. I fled here to hide and eventually gave up hope of ever changing back. But you…”

“Claude.” He held out his hand for Dimitri to shake. “And you can thank me by letting you take you out for a drink sometime. Uh, once we get you some fitting clothes, that is.”

Dimitri took the offered hand in a firm shake before glancing down at his outfit and blushing.

“...Oh.”

He pulled Claude’s cloak around him, trying to cover his exposed skin, and Claude couldn’t help but laugh. This was certainly what he’d consider a successful adventure.


	9. Thunder Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #21: Thunder Storms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sobs in 'what is free time')
> 
> Sorry for the huge wait between prompts, here's something very cheesy and self-indulgent to hopefully make up for it!

Another mighty crack of thunder roared across the night sky, so loud that it drowned out even Dimitri’s startled yelp.

The aftershocks still rumbled in the hot summer air when a flash illuminated the room once again, brighter and fiercer than even the sunlight here, and was closely pursued by a second clattering bang. The glass windows rattled in their frames from the sheer force of the sound, and Dimitri couldn’t help but duck under the thin silk blanket that covered him and his husband - who, somehow, was managing to sleep soundly through the chaos. Quivering in the dark, Dimitri shuffled closer to Claude and huddled against him, hoping to draw comfort from his warmth. For a moment it worked, the sound of Dimitri’s sharp breaths softening and his heartbeat steadying, until a series of staccato flashes crept through gaps in the blanket, and a concert of ear-splitting snaps rang like the strike of a cat-o-nine-tails against his ears.

He yelped again, his arms involuntarily crushing Claude against him, finally jolting him awake.

“Hn, wha-?” Hands brushed over Dimitri’s arms and he realised, with a blush, just how tightly he’d been clinging to him. “Mitya…?”

Sheepishly, Dimitri wriggled out from underneath the blanket. “Sorry, Claude, I didn’t mean to wake you… I just…”

Before he could explain, a simultaneous flash and bang, not nearly as loud or as bright as the previous ones but still alarming enough to Dimitri’s wired nerves, moulded his words into another, mortifyingly high-pitched yelp and he shut his eye, burying his face against Claude’s chest. The body against him shook with a quiet chuckle.

“Wait, wait… You never mentioned anything about being afraid of a little storm.”

“ _ Little?” _ Dimitri huffed into Claude’s curled chest hair. “I’m not afraid of storms, Claude, but  _ this _ is no storm. It’s the end of the world!” He lifted his head to look at Claude, hoping to drive home the severity of what was happening outside, only to see Claude smiling at him in amusement.

“I suppose I should have warned you. Almyran summer storms tend to be a bit… extreme.”

“A bit??”

Claude rolled his eyes. “Ok, ok, a lot. You get used to it, I suppose.”

The next flash send Dimitri scrambling for cover again before the tolling boom sounded. Gentle hands found him beneath the blanket and looped around him, held him close.

“You don’t have to be scared, Dimitri. Nothing’s gonna happen, ok? It’s just a storm.”

A grunt. “Are you certain of that?”

“Yes. Besides, it’s moving further away now.”

Another rumble. Much quieter now, but still enough to make Dimitri wince. He didn’t protest when Claude pulled the blanket away from him and shuffled down so that they were face-to-face, and barely bit back a soft sigh as Claude’s fingers brushed through his hair.

“Almyra really is quite different to Fódlan, isn’t it? The weather, the food, even the storms. I never really stopped to ask how you’ve been managing it.”

It had been half a year since Dimitri had left Faerghus to live with Claude in Almyra, and it had, admittedly, been a difficult adjustment. He’d tried desperately not to let Claude see how much he loathed the heat, how difficult it had been to remember all the customs, how awkward the Almyran speech still felt on his tongue, not just because he was worried about upsetting Claude, but he wanted so badly to be the best husband possible for Claude, to make their strange new situation as comfortable as possible. It had been a massive step for both of them when Dimitri had decided to give up the throne he was set to inherit and hand it to Claude instead, along with the rest of the continent. Dimitri had never felt fit to be a ruler, had never felt at-ease under such a huge amount of pressure and responsibility, but Claude… 

Claude was a man of vision, charisma, and determination. Of all the doubts Dimitri had about the choices he’d made in his life, he would never count this decision among them. 

“I suppose it’s a lot like when you arrived in Fódlan,” Dimitri said eventually, when he was certain the thunder had rolled far enough away and his voice had returned to a normal pitch. “It’s taking some getting used to, more than I expected, but it feels almost like home already.”

Even in the dark, there was a definite spark in Claude’s eyes. “Like home, huh? Fódlan never quite felt that way for me back then, but I suppose I didn’t have you at my side.”

“Would that have changed things?”

Their noses brushed as Claude kissed him, lightly, on the lips. 

“Everything. Someone who accepted me for who I was? Someone there to help me when I felt lost? Someone I could trust? Yeah, it would have made a world of difference.”

Dimitri shook his head. “You seemed to manage just fine without me.”

“Oh? I’m glad it seemed that way, ‘cus let me tell you, I was a mess. Until you and I got to know each other, of course. How does that saying go in Fódlan?”

“ _ And the rest is history _ .”

Their lips found each other again and lingered this time, breaking only when Claude couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“The history of Claude and Dimitri. What a tale that would be, eh?”

Dimitri’s hands crept up to frame Claude’s face, transfixed by the smile that had brightened his entire world. “My favourite tale of all.”


	10. Buddy (Animal)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt, uh... #25: Animal/Creature/Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are getting later and later... oops?
> 
> Heads up for written observed panic attack!

“I’m not sure about this…”

“Oh, c’mon, Dimitri! We’ve been talking about this for months.”

“I know, I know. I just… Are you sure we’re ready?”

“Of course we are. And besides, we’re doing this together, aren’t we?”

Dimitri gave a long, thoughtful sigh. “You’re right. With you at my side, Claude, I’m sure we can manage this.”

The smile on Claude’s face was brighter than ever, shining in his perfect eyes, and swept away what little doubt still lingering in Dimitri’s chest. They were ready for this. It was time.

He looked down at the paper in front of him, still waiting for a signature at the bottom. Once signed, there’d be no going back. Their family would no longer be just the two of them. The pen was cold in his fingers.

“Let’s do it.”

A scribble on the page, a hurried date, and Claude practically leapt on him, arms wrapping like a viper around his shoulders and kisses peppered across his cheek. Dimitri laughed and wriggled around to kiss him back, trying not to notice the way the young girl at the desk pretended to be distracted with some other task.

When Claude was finished decorating him in kisses, he stepped back and clapped his hands together. “Alright, let’s go meet him!”

His name was Buddy, and he smiled as soon as he saw them, his little brown eyes beaming up at them and his tail wagging furiously. He was a Golden Retriever, nine years young with white hairs around his snout and eyes, and Dimitri had fallen in love with him instantly. It taken Claude until one touch of that wondrously soft honey-coloured coat and one boop of that little wet nose against Claude’s chin to agree that Buddy was the one. 

A day later they were carefully lifting their newest family member into the back of Claude’s car, seeing as he was too old to jump into the car himself, and driving him home; he smiled the whole way there. 

It took no time at all for Buddy to fit in perfectly to their little family. Dimitri would walk him down to the local park in the morning and carry him home. He would spend the day sprawled out napping on the couch or sitting by the window, watching cars and people go by, giving a single, hefty  _ boof _ for every dog he spotted. In the afternoon, Claude would let him out into the backyard so he could roll in the grass and try to catch bugs until he was ready to come inside for dinner. His nights comprised of curling up on his special mattress at the foot of their bed, the soft metronome of his breathing helping to lull Dimitri and Claude to sleep.

They couldn’t have found a more perfect dog, Claude realised, as Buddy sat in the kitchen watching him cook. His weight was gradually improving - he’d been on the slightly-larger-than-average end of the scale when they’d adopted him - and was supposed to be on a careful diet, but that rarely stopped Claude from slipping the odd piece of meat or chunk of vegetable as he prepared dinner. And Buddy had been quick to understand that Claude was far more likely to give in to his sad puppy look than Dimitri.

He had been busily working away on tonight’s meal, under Buddy’s careful watch, when suddenly he stood up, ears up, and hurried off faster than Claude had ever seen him move anywhere, even when food was involved. Curious about what had gotten him so excited, Claude switched off the stove and followed him down the hallway.

“Buddy!” he called. “Where you going?”

There was no sign of him, but the door to their room was open. When Claude stuck his head into the room to check for signs of Buddy, his heart dropped instantly.

“Oh no…”

Buddy was standing in front of Dimitri, who sat on the floor with his hands over his ears, his eyes staring sightlessly in front of him. Immediately recognising one of Dimitri’s attacks, Claude hurried over to crouch down beside him.

“Dimitri! Can you hear me? Hey, I’m right here, it’s ok.”

He put his hands on Dimitri’s shoulders, trying to still their shaking, but Dimitri flinched away with a gasp. Wherever he was, he mustn’t realise it was Claude next to him, Claude’s voice speaking to him, but he kept trying.

“It’s me, it’s ok, it’s just me. I’m here, you’re safe, no one’s going to hurt you…”

The shaking was getting worse, his breathing ragged and broken, and Claude’s heart shattered at the sight, desperate to help. Usually when Dimitri got into a state like this, Claude’s voice and touch could help ground him and eventually bring him back out of it, but this one was particularly bad.

“Dimitri? Hey, it’s ok. You’re at our home, you’re with me, Buddy’s here…”

Buddy! If Dimitri’s got attack got worse, there was a chance that what he saw in his mind would become what was happening around him, and he had on one or two occasions started trying to fight off the invisible ghosts surrounding him. If that happened, Claude didn’t want Buddy to get hurt.

“Buddy, go!” Claude waved a hand at the dog, trying to shoo him. “Go, get! Go to your bowl!”

But Buddy just whined, eyes still on Dimitri. Ignoring Claude, he stepped closer to Dimitri and nudged his nose under one of Dimitri’s arms, and Claude held his breath as Dimitri paused, his trembling starting to lessen as Buddy placed two big paws on his legs. Nuzzling his way past his arms, Buddy gave Dimitri’s cheek a tentative lick, and something in Dimitri’s eyes refocused. He blinked, released a long breath, and looked down at Buddy. 

“...What happened?”

Buddy’s tail started to wag. Claude put his hand on Dimitri’s shoulder again, and he didn’t flinch this time, finally back to himself.

“You had an attack,” Claude explained. “Are you ok?”

“Oh.” Dimitri blinked again and lifted a quivering hand to pat Buddy’s soft head. “Did I…?”

Claude shook his head. “Buddy noticed somehow. He came running after you from the kitchen, like he could tell something bad was happening. And he helped calm you down.”

A soft  _ uff _ from Buddy in agreement. His tail was wagging enthusiastically now, his whole hind-end swaying. Claude leaned over to scratch along his back, feeling the silky honey fur under his fingers.

“I guess we have a therapy animal now.”

Finally, Dimitri smiled. He let his arms fall around Buddy and held him close in a hug, burying his face in the fur as Buddy licked his ear. Claude had already loved Buddy, but in that moment, the old pup was worth a hundred times his weight in gold and more.


End file.
